


Applied Psychology - Part 1

by pean_delton (orphan_account)



Series: Applied Psychology [1]
Category: Community (TV)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-18
Updated: 2014-01-18
Packaged: 2018-01-09 04:01:22
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,875
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1141174
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/pean_delton





	Applied Psychology - Part 1

"… And that," Dean Pelton announced across the desk, "Is why we need to increase production of school-branded backpacks!"

Jeff paused, gazing pensively at the Dean's bald head. That can't be real, he mused. I bet he gets up every morning and waxes it with a car buffer.

 

"Paying attention, are we, Winger?" The Dean smirked, tapping his pen on his desk.

Do we even make school-branded backpacks? Jeff sighed. "Yeah, sorry. I was just…"

"No, Winger, you weren't. You were incredibly unjust." He sat there for a moment, trying to suppress the grin crossing over his face. He felt disproportionately proud of himself for that one, and would continue to all day. Smug prick, Jeff would think, if he knew what the Dean was thinking; he couldn't, of course. Not even a level 6 Buddha laser cookie wizard (or whatever the hell they're called) would be able to get inside that guy's head. His bald head. His very bald, weirdly shiny head. This, of course, wasn't what Jeff was thinking, because he didn't know he wanted to read the Dean's mind, and thus wouldn't be thinking about how he couldn't.

 

"I just wanna know," Jeff began again, "What any of this has to do with re-tarring the school parking lot."

The Dean raised an eyebrow. "You really think that's an issue, Jeff? Come on. Cars are beasts of things! A little itty bitty crater left over from when the bomb disposal club set off a whole bunch of plastic explosives to protest being shut down isn't going to matter one jot!"

Jeff raised a brow. He'd come in thinking "This is going to be a long day"… but he was about to leave thinking "This is going to be a short semester".

 

***

 

"I can't count the reasons I should stay…"

Troy looked across the study table at the quietly-humming Abed, his head cocked to the side. "Hey, Abed, what's that song?"

Abed abruptly looked up, put away the little paper fortune teller he'd been absent-mindedly toying with, shut his lips and turned his head towards Troy. His motions were swift and stopped as abruptly as they started, as though he were in a bad claymation film. "I don't know. I heard it on the radio, and I think it'd be a great theme song for a TV show."

 

Troy sat back, an expression of shock suddenly plastered across his face, as though someone had just thrown it at him and it had affixed itself to his head. "Abed… did you just say… 'I don't know'?"

Abed grinned. "Yes, I did, and it felt great. Now, studying."

Troy sat back forwards again, sighing with relief. "Whew. Okay, fine. That's just… just a blip on the radar." He stuck his hand up in the air and extended his index finger, pretending to press something. "Boop!"

 

Annie giggled, immediately clearing her throat and sitting stark upright as soon as she received an askew glance from Britta.

 

Abed looked over to Annie. "That was an interesting reaction." He glanced across the table, nodding at Britta. "To both Troy and Britta, I should clarify."

Britta cocked an eyelid. "What d'you mean?"

"Well," Abed explained, "As soon as you looked at her with the slightest bit of doubt, she felt judged, and immediately  shut up. Even though neither of you really said anything, it was like she was a lowly private and you were the army general from… Kubrick war movie with Asian stereotype."

Troy stood up, his chair scooting back as he did. "A'right, this ain't funny, Abed."

Abed looked at him, puzzled. "I don't know what you mean." His eyes shot back to Annie. "Full Metal Jacket."

 

"Don't you get it, man? That's another blip!" He mimed the same motion as before. "Boop!"

Annie stifled another giggle, looking worriedly at Britta.

Abed remained stoic. "If it's just a blip, then you don't need to be concerned. It's over. It has passed. Draw curtains, kill the lights, that's a wrap."

"Abed, listen to me. When there's more than one blip, that means--"

Abed's hand shot up. "That there are multiple blips?"

"Exactly!... Wait, what? Anyway, when there's multiple blips, that means we haven't just got a sonar error, we've got a god-damn Soviet submarine on our tails! … And did you just mix theatre and movie references jus'now?"

"No," Abed blurted, while keeping the same rapid-fire, monotonous tone his voice always seemed to carry.

 

"The point is, something's wrong wit'you, man." Troy slowly sat down, pulling his chair in just a little bit. "Something's wrong wit'you!" His voice shook a little.

"Sounds like Mr. Football's welling up," Pierce whispered across the table to Shirley. She stayed silent, looking down the table at Troy, then from him to Abed, then back to Troy. "Nothin', huh? But when somebody goes and puts it on the world wide web, huzzah, he--" he shot a look at Britta. "Or she, is a genius!"

Britta looked at him confused. "… Wait, I did what?"

"I thought you did something. With a phone. That was embarrassing?"

Britta gazed at Jeff, disgruntled. "Oh, right, yeah."

"Hey, you were drunk, I was drunk…"

"No, I was drunk, and then you got drunk," Britta snapped, "And worst of all, you got Abed drunk, too."

"Pfft, yeah," Jeff snickered, "The poor guy couldn't even reference his precious little movies--"

 

There was a long silence.

 

"Ah."

The metaphorical cogs turned in Troy's mind, before it suddenly occurred to him. "Abed… have you been…"

"Spit it out, Ernie Davis," Pierce snarked across the desk, which was met with a resounding "Racist!" from the rest of the table.

"Tell me, Troy," Abed implored him, "I'm intrigued."

"Have… have you…"

Chang kicked the doorframe. "Get on with it!" The room had a short round of "When-did-he-get-here"s, before turning their attention back to Troy.

"Have you been drinking, man?"

The whole table gasped, whereas except for Chang, who laughed heartily, slapping his knee as he sent himself reeling back into the opposite side of the doorway. He slid down, his face bunched up in an expression which, as any psychology teacher would tell you, is indicative of the sheer sociopathy behind that laughter.

 

Chang would probably retort that that stuck-up, self-important (and possibly British) psychology professor needed a kick in the face from a man who was once known, albeit only by himself, as the proud warrior El Tigre Chino.

 

Jeff sat back, pinching the bridge of his nose. "So, is nobody gonna ask why I yelled 'Dean Pelton is an annoying, bald, stuck-up ass' when I came in here?"

"Nope," Pierce replied, grinning, "I thought it was National State-The-Obvious Day!"

Britta chuckled a little, resting her elbow on the table and holding out her palm, as if to say "I'll let you have that one".

"So, he dragged me into his office to talk about campus renovations."

Troy looked at him sideways. "… I don't get it."

Jeff's palm slipped flat to hide his face, his fingers fanning out and gripping his head like an aggressive starfish. "Of course you don't, Troy. Look, have you noticed that, when he wants to tell us stuff, he barges in here to tell us?"

"Yeah," Troy murmurs, "And he's always wearing his sisters' clothes!"

 

There was another long silence, save for some rattling coming from the vents above.

 

Troy glances around the table. "What? Is it, like, always laundry day at his place?"

Jeff groaned, since his hand couldn't press into his face any harder without caving it in.

"Look," Britta interjected, "We're missing the point. Abed might, and I mean might, have a…" Her voice lowered to a harsh whisper. "Drinking problem!"

"Why did you have to whisper it?" Abed cocked his head to the side. "We're all very close together, and we could all hear you."

"… I couldn't," replied Pierce.

Abed spun around to face him. "That's because you're old, Pierce, and your hearing has degenerated to a point where you can only hear things within a certain radius."

"Well, I wish you were out of my radius, Abed," Pierce grumbled.

"Well then, I might just grant your wish. I can be the pop-culture referencing genie to your Aladdin, the only difference being that I'm not Robin Williams." He withdrew a flask from inside his jacket, flipping it open and taking a swig.

 

Pierce looked at him, confused. "Wait, are you saying I'm Scott Weinger?"

 

"Abed!" Britta flung up her hands, reaching across the table and trying to knock it out of his hands.

"Britta, relax," Abed replied, putting the cap back on it and concealing it again. "It is vitamin water. It is water, full of vitamins, for my vitamin deficiency. I have a note from my doctor to prove it."

"Oh, no it's not," Shirley butted in, clasping her hands together. "What's in there, Abed, is alcohol! Full of alcohol, for your… alcohol… deficiency!"

Pierce snickered. "Lost your ever-present wry wit, Shirley?"

That sad old man better watch his vile tongue, Shirley thought.

"That sad old man better watch his vile tongue," Shirley said out loud at the same time, though not quite realising that she'd done so. "Oh lord," she whispered, clasping her hands together once more, "Give me the strength to keep my damn mouth shut!"

"Yes, Shirley," Britta snapped, "And give Abed the strength to keep his mouth shut!"

 

There was a pause, before she began again.

 

"… So he can't drink!

 

Abed glared at Britta. "What if I developed nasal congestion? I wouldn't be able to breathe properly through my nose. I would suffocate. Would you do that to me, Britta?"

"Would you do this to us?" Troy leapt up onto the table, kicking his chair back. It flipped over, landing on the floor. He ran across the table, reaching into Abed's coat and wrenching out the flask. "You, tearin' us apart…"

"I'm not tearing you apart," Abed retorted calmly, "You're tearing each other apart because of me." Abed rolled his eyes, for effect.

Troy sneered at him. "I'm not done. You, and your stupid, stupid…" He uncapped the flask, tipping its contents onto the table. They were clear, and lightly carbonated.

 

"Told you so," Abed said; he may not have been smiling on the outside, but on the inside he must have been grinning like the Cheshire cat.

"… Vitamin water."

"I'd like to say 'I told you so', but I didn't," Jeff remarked, sitting back and resting his feet on the desk. "Oh, and before anyone asks, I'm entitled to sit like this."

"Hmm?" Shirley looked at him, curiously.

"And it's because," Jeff replied, "I don't need to put my books there. In fact, none of us need to put our books anywhere, except maybe a hobo's trashcan fire."

 

"The politically correct term is 'homeless person', Jeff," Britta reminded him with a leer.

 

"You're missing the point." Jeff sighed. "We don't need to study. We don't even need to be in this room right now."

The whole table gasped. They puzzled "Why?" in unison, whereas Chang, still sitting in the doorway, groaned. He put his hands around his mouth. "Booo-ring!"

Annie huffed, staring at him. "Get out!"

"Please," Jeff interrupted, holding up his hands. "Just listen. The Dean told me something in there that made me realise that, hey, guess what? If I do what I'm about to do tomorrow, I won't have to do… anything. And neither will any of you."

 

Another gasp rang out from the whole table.

 

Chang cupped his hands again, calling out. "Gay-eee!"

 

"Hey!" Pierce snapped at him. "Don't use 'gay' as a derogatory term!"

Britta rolled her eyes. "And who was it, again, who called me a 'skirt-browsing lilac ranger' when I wouldn't help you get out of Troy and Abed's book fort last week?"

"To be fair," Pierce replied with a smug smile, "You had to look it up to know it was offensive."

She huffed. "Just because it's obscure doesn't mean it's not okay, Pierce!" She spat on the "p" of his name, making sure to drive her disgust home.

"Um, es'cuse me?" Troy butted in. "But did he call you a Power Ranger? I don't get why you're so offended, 'cause that's kinda awesome."

She drove her palm into her face. Hard. "There are other kinds of 'ranger', Troy. Park rangers, the Texas Ranger division…"

"Naw, man, he put a colour in front of if. That definitely means he meant a Power Ranger." Troy grinned widely. "Maybe I had you wrong, Pierce. You're cool."

 

"Look," Britta replied, getting up from the table and walking over to Troy. "When he said 'lilac', he was talking about a…" She leant down to whisper. As time went on, Troy's face contorted into a look of utter disgust.

"… Pierce? I revoke your coolness badge, dude. Turns out I had you right. Way, way, way too right!" Troy shuddered, whimpering "Not cool!"

"Aww, forget it," Pierce grumbled. "You'll get over me. I could say that exact same line next semester and you'll all love me for it!"

Abed glanced over at him. "The 'derogatory term' one or the 'lilac ranger' one?"

"The first one, idiot." Pierce scoffed, folding his arms.

 

There was a long silence again. Again. Jeff let out a sigh, as if to say "Hey, guys, I've calmed down, and by now, you should all have calmed down too".

 

"So," Jeff began again, "As I was saying. About the dean."

Britta looked at him, curious. "… Go on."

"Well," Jeff continued, "That's just it. He didn't come in here. He specifically called one of us into his office - over the PA, even - to talk about renovating the school's parking lot."

"And then…?" Shirley looked puzzled.

"And then he just went on some stupid tangent about "backpack safety"."

 

Annie looked at him for a while, blinking only once in the space of about five minutes.

 

"… What?"

Annie made a disappointed face. "What do you mean, "backpack safety"?"

Jeff put his feet back down and stood up, slamming his hands down onto the table. "That's just it! I didn't get what he was going on about either!" He sat down with a sigh. "Guys, the dean's losing his marbles."

Another "What?" erupted from the table. "Aw, screw this," Chang chimed in, getting up and flouncing out of the doorway.

Jeff's palm slammed into his face again. "He's got a one-way ticket to crazytown! He's flying over the cuckoo's nest! He's Dean, Interrupted!" Jeff got up again, thumping the table with a fist. "He's one banana short of a bunch!"

 

After a short silence, Abed spoke up. "Nice reference, Jeff."

 

Jeff promptly slammed both of his hands into his own face, groaning. "Ugh, you guys. Take something away from what I'm saying, okay?"

"Oh, I did," Britta grumbled, "But none of the things you say or do turn out right. With your luck, the Dean will come right back around to his senses - well, whatever senses he had before - and we'll need to stay just the way we are. Forever, Jeff, or at least until we graduate from this stress-factory."

"She's right," Abed spoke up, turning to Jeff. "Your hare-brained schemes and so-called 'blow-off classes' have always either turned out to be shams, or worse, gotten us into some kind of insane conflict." He looked around the table, quickly turning back at Jeff. "Everything you do that you claim will help us - or even just only you -, Jeff, you ruin." He would have smirked in conceitment, but he just sort of turned up the corner of his mouth a little.

 

"Ha!" Britta got up enthusiastically, pointing at Jeff. "I've got you now, Winger." A grin spread across her face. "Remember 'Brittaing'? Well, no more, Mr. Everything-I-Touch-Turns-To-Crap. From now on, the new word is 'Jeffing'."

Jeff raised an eyebrow at her, shaking his head.

Pierce made a face that looked somewhere between between amusement and constipation.

Troy honestly didn't know what was going on.

Shirley twiddled her thumbs, eventually starting to tap her foot and whistle at the same time.

 

This was somewhat annoying.

 

Abed spoke up, breaking the brief, accusatory silence. "Jeffing it is."

 

The rest of the table were silent. "Jeffing" was not going to become a thing… at least, not as long as Britta consistently gave her own namesake pejorative so much gravity.

 

And for some reason, Annie didn't do anything, because she wasn't there anymore.

 

"… Wait, how long's Annie been gone for?" Britta puzzled, her gaze darting around the room.

"I, uh. I can explain," Troy squeaked, suddenly sounding incredibly nervous.

"Troy," Shirley inquired in that voice, "Are you alright?"

"E-earlier this morning, I-I asked Pierce what mattered most in life, a-and he took a piece of paper and wrote down "The size of your…", and then he started drawing a propellor, but two of the blades were shorter than the th-third one…"

Everyone stood in wide-eyed silence, before Jeff spoke up with revelation. "Oooh! Right! Because he was actually drawing a… And you're acting like you're… innocent, right. Yeah."

The rest of the group, save for Pierce and Troy, glared at Jeff.

 

Meanwhile, Annie continued to make her way swiftly down the corridor, a determined, yet disgruntled, look on her face, towards the Dean's office.

 

***


End file.
